


Intertwining Fates

by TripleThreatTrio



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Non-dragonborn main character, Slice of Life, Solstheim, family time!, meanwhile back at the ranch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 10:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleThreatTrio/pseuds/TripleThreatTrio
Summary: A ~Nifty Mod bonus chapter not-quite-directly relating to Chapter 19 (S2:E6) of Legends Don't BurnWe very briefly met Driem-the-bosmer in the beginning of the first arc of Legends Don't Burn. Here we get a peek into her life and what she's been up to before she runs into our favorite Dragonborn Kiir'dun for the second time, leading right into said meeting.





	Intertwining Fates

**Author's Note:**

> [Legends Don't Burn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11077125/chapters/28293870)

“Back again,” pause, “I see.” The daedra’s odd lilt echoed through the halls, defying the muffling properties of worn leather and musty old pages. 

“Good to see you too Hermaeus.” The picture of casual politeness. The wood elf waited, determined that he should ask before she tells, though both knew perfectly well why she was there. He didn’t disappoint. 

“To what, do I owe the  _ pleasure _ , this time, mortal? What knowledge,” full pause, “have you come to seek?”

“The third word.” She regarded the inky mass of tentacles and eyes calmly, almost blandly. For all her awe and devotion, it wouldn’t do to show this particular daedra any weakness. So long as she had something he wanted, it was quid-pro-quo. 

Her first time here had been hard: still reeling from the unexpected sensation of being pulled into the black book - trying not to be frightened by the booming pitchy voice that seemed so at odds with the open air of his realm - her own eyes unable to settle on any part of his projected being, attention drawn from eye to eye as they bubbled up and churned back into the mass. She had sought knowledge of lycanthropy, to understand it… and obtain it. Ultimately she had succeeded.

It was easier the second time, after she had decided to watch only the single largest eye in his center that gaped open and slid back closed in tandem with the others, but never changed in size or sank back into his body. That time it was a word in the tongue of the dovah, a word that (according to her own research, before she’d hit the roadblock that drew her back to Apocrypha) was said to carry the speaker as if on the wind. 

The third time was even easier, once she had decided to simply pretend all the other eyes besides that central one were sightless. By that time she knew where she stood with the daedra of knowledge, so of course that helped too. She’d had to backtrack, during that trip, for the knowledge and understanding of how to  _ actually use  _ the words of a dragon shout - something she had not realized she would need when she’d asked before for only the word itself, and something he had thus not included in his payment. 

He would trade her whatever knowledge she wanted for the right price, and for the hoarder of knowledge, even something as mundane as a secret recipe could be the right price. After lycanthropy and the first word (and the knowledge to use it), she’d sought out the second word. After that he sometimes sought her out for specific pieces of knowledge he was after. She was a tool, and an effective one at that. He’d offer something he thought she’d like (her dremora was likely her favorite prize that she’d obtained in this way) and she’d take it or leave it on her own terms. But coming back to Apocrypha through the Black Book of her own accord meant it was once again her turn to seek something specific, and his price for it could be high if she didn’t already have something in mind. 

“And what, have you brought me, in trade for it?” 

“There have been whispers, from Skyrim, of someone new gifted with the Voice. I know, I know, it isn’t unheard of - Ulfrick, the Greybeards,  _ me _ for that matter… but now there’s talk of an echo coming down from High Hrothgar. A sound like thunder, three syllables. There could be another Dragonborn.” It was farfetched sounding, Driem knew, but she was sure; with the return of the dragons, it was entirely possible that a Dragonborn might also return, and too many people had heard the Greybeards Voice for it to be a falsehood. If it were only rumor, it’d never have even reached Solstheim. 

Hermaeus Mora’s central eye tilted and blinked, but he did not immediately reply. 

“You already knew about the Dragonborn.” she concluded. 

“Yes, and no.”

“What would you have me seek for you, then?”

“All you had brought me, were whispers? Mortal. I will give you, the word you seek... and even the first word, of another” pause “as well as the knowledge, you need to access it” longer pause “if you can bring him to me.”

“The dragonborn?!” Her eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “What do you want with him? How would I even find him?”

“Follow, your whispers, mortal,” pause “You are resourceful.” His large eye slid closed and open again.

“Bringing you a person is quite a bit different from what you’ve asked of me before,”

“The dragonborn, will come to Apocrypha, one way or another,” pause “It is up to you to decide, how badly you want your knowledge.” 

* * *

From the thickening pool of inky blackness, a book folded itself into existence. Intangible wind flicked through the pages until suddenly they snapped into an open position and, from them,  slimy, wriggling tentacles unfurled, dumping the bosmer at the dunmer’s feet. 

“I still can’t believe you do that on purpose,” he informed her. 

Driem huffed, “Yes, well, you’ll be getting a break from all the ridiculous things I decide to do for a while anyway. I need to go home.”

Ralis’s voice turned cold and steely, “Whatever you say, boss.” 

She regarded the unreadable chitin mask and could easily imagine his usual frown deepening beneath it.

She returned the imagined frown, but didn’t press the issue. Dunmer following bosmer, they climbed up from the perfectly serviceable cellar of the otherwise decrepit building they frequently found themselves sheltering in. She withdrew her bow and nocked an arrow as they crept out across the floor towards the gaping hole in the wall, cautious and ready in case of - 

“Ashspawn!” Ralis’s voice was gruff and low, loud enough to draw Driem’s attention without alerting the churning cinders. 

She followed his gaze. Her eyes combed the ground until they came to rest upon the swollen and slightly glowing mass of ash, “Well spotted. Be ready.” 

Together, they drew back their bows. Driem fired first, triggering a whirl of dusty ash as the reanimated creature burst from the ground. Ralis’s arrow struck true a moment later. By the time it regained its footing, the bosmer had readied another arrow and fired. The mer worked in tandem this way, firing staggered arrows until finally the hellish spawn imploded and the impossibly insubstantial remains fluttered lightly to the ground. 

She nealt to sift through what little was left for recoverable arrows and anything else that could be useful as he scanned the rest of the immediate area, “I don’t see any more.”

Driem nodded as she stood. There were  _ usually _ more than one in the area, but attacking one nearly always triggered any others nearby. She nocked another arrow anyway. There had been far too many close calls to not be vigilant. 

The cautious and careful rout the mer took back to Raven Rock stretched what could have been a forty-five minute journey into just over an hour, but it was blissfully uneventful and almost questionably safe. There were no lurkers, no burnt spriggans, no ashhoppers, no inexplicable exploding fire spiders - and most importantly no ashspawn. 

Even Ralis could have been accused of being uncharacteristically silent, were it not entirely typical of him to turn sour over her departure. 

They arrived at Ralis’s permanently-rented room in the Retching Netch without incident and it wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that he started in on her, yanking off his helmet and spitting, “I’m surprised that necklace near the entrance there didn’t find its way into your pockets.” 

She clamped her jaw shut in an attempt to bite back her knee-jerk retort and focused on forcing her facial features into a blank mask as she set aside her own helmet and began rummaging through the chest in the back of the room, shifting things into her bags, “It was cheaply made, and left out on purpose. Only an idiot would consider drawing that kind of attention.” She left her usual excuses and rationalizations for the things that  _ did _ sometimes find their way into her pockets unsaid; they’d only caused more fighting.  

Robbed of his chance to upset her over something other than the real issue at hand, he scowled.  _ Bloody coward _ . But, she supposed, he was  _ her _ bloody coward - and  **that** was the issue, really.

The bosmer contemplated escalating things, letting him have his fight, but on  _ her terms _ . It would have been so easy to ask him, for example, about his plans for while she was gone. Or to remind him of his employer back on the mainland. Or to suggest that he run some errand - perhaps to the Skaal village - in her absence. Ultimately, she decided against it. 

Instead she leveled an apologetic look at him, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be gone. Maybe not as long as last time. If I can...” she paused, considering her own intentions, “If I  _ decide _ to do what Hermaeus asked of me, I’ll probably be back sooner.” 

Angrily, but somewhat resigned, he reached into his own bag and thrust something at her, “For the rat.” 

Whatever insincerity was left in her face melted into genuine appreciation. It was a collar, for Vermin: netch leather with a chitin tag (somewhat sloppily inscribed with the letter ‘V’). She didn’t thank him, but she didn’t really have to; he knew. What she wanted to say next hung in the air between them - that he was still welcome to come with her - but she didn’t really have to say that, either. She knew he wouldn’t. 

Slinging her heavy bag over her shoulder and walking out, she left without saying goodbye. 

Only minutes later she was aboard the Northern Maiden and headed home.

* * *

The last of the evening’s light was bleeding away when the boat arrived in Windhelm. It had taken several hours to reach the snowy docs. As it always did, being confined to a vessel, sitting around and doing nothing at all, only served to make the voyage seem so much _ longer. _ Weary and exhausted from the hours spent sitting, guard down because Windhelm was  _ populated  _ and  _ safe _ , Driem was utterly unprepared when she was nearly shoved into the freezing water by an exuberant ball of green and blue scales. 

“MAMA!” 

She struggled to keep from toppling over, but after a moment regained her balance and returned the vice-like embrace of the small argonian boy who had attached himself to her. 

“Zu-zi,” she cooed, focusing intently on him, “Honey, it’s almost dark, why aren’t you in bed?”

His grip on her abdomen loosened enough that he could turn his head to look up at her excitedly, “Mama-Moira said I could see if you were on the boat!” 

Driem flicked her gaze around in search of her older son, “Where is Blaise?” Seconds later her eyes landed on Shahvee, leaning against the stone wall and watching the two of them with undisguised affection. Driem’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“He’s grounded!” The argonian boy bounced, positively tickled pink - not so much by his brother’s misfortune as by being able to tell her about it, being able to fill her in on the goings on that she'd missed, to answer her questions - and of course simply being reunited with the elf he called his mother at all.

Driem frowned slightly. Blaise wasn’t one to get in trouble. She shuffled her son further from the boats and Shahvee stepped forward to meet them, smiling, “He was going to spend the night with me if you weren’t aboard.” 

She shifted to look at the adult, “How’d you know the boat was coming?”

Yinzu-zi jumped to answer, “Blaisey climbed the wall!” 

The argonian woman’s mirth was evident, “Your breton boy somehow got himself onto the roofs of the Grey Quarter. The snow has been lax; He saw the Maiden from the wall.”

The wood elf’s eyes widened, “Did he damage someone’s property?” 

“Oh heavens no,” Shahvee waved her hand dismissively, “Your hagraven was only worried that he’d gone and done something dangerous I’m sure.” She leaned conspiratorially towards the bosmer, “I think it’s good to have a little adventure, myself.” 

Driem couldn’t help but grin back as she hoisted Yinzu-zi onto her hip, “Between you and me, I’m impressed he managed to get up there. I’ll talk to Moira. Thank you for keeping an eye on this little  _ monster -”  _ she ruffled the boy's feathers,  _ “ - _ for me.”

“No trouble at all, friend. He is a delight.”

Yinzu-zi tightened his grip on the mer and buried his face in her shoulder bashfully. 

Shahvee smiled at him one more time and gave a nod to Driem before retreating to the Assemblage. 

Driem watched her go, then turned back to Yinzu-zi, who was content just pressing his forehead to her shoulder and hugging tightly, “I brought you something Zu-zi.” 

His head snapped up and he wiggled to be put down, “What is it?” 

She set him down, took his hand, and headed for the stairs leading to the city’s back gate, “Guess.”

“A dagger!”

“Of course, but what kind do you think?”

He scrunched up his face in concentration. He already had an iron one, and a steel one, and an orcish one. They reached the top of the stairs. “Elvish?” he guessed eventually. 

She dropped his hand and pushed the heavy doors open, shooing him inside before following, “Not this time. It’s  _ Nordic _ . We’ll see about Elvish next time, okay?” 

He scrunched his face once more and gripped her hand again as they made their way towards home, “I thought the iron and steel ones were Nord.”

“Iron and steel are common materials for basic daggers. This one is made of quicksilver. It’s carved and it’s very pretty. The blade is only on one side, like your orcish one.” 

They lapsed into comfortable silence but after a few long seconds Yinzu-zi asked, “That one is made of O-rich-alchem?”

“Orichalcum.”

“Orichalcum.” After that they returned to quiet companionship. As they reached the doors to Hjerim he said, “And the new one is Nord and made from Quicksilver,” as if just making sure before they went inside. 

She nodded, and pushed open the door. 

The squirming skeever that accosted her just inside the door didn't come nearly as close to toppling her as Yinzu-zi had at the docks, but it wasn't for lack of trying. She knelt down to ruffle his fur and scratch him behind the ears. Yinzu-zi sprinted off in the direction of his bedroom, likely to tell Blaise that she'd returned. From off to her right, a hagraven stepped out of her kitchen. 

Her smile softened, “Moira.” 

The hagraven cast her an equally fond look and they met in an embrace. 

Moira drew back to look Driem in the eye, “Darling. I really didn't expect you back yet.”

“I didn't expect to be back yet myself. I'm being sent on an errand.”

Moira nodded, “Anything I can help with?”

Driem shook her head, “Not likely, but we’ll see once I get the boys back down for the night.”

“I suppose the little one has already told you about what Blaise got himself into today.” Her mouth was drawn in a thin, disapproving line but her eyes betrayed some reluctant amusement. 

Driem laughed. 

Vermin skittered around her feet vying for more attention as she parted ways with her wife and clicked open the door to the boys’ room. Yinzu-zi sat cross legged on his bed just behind the door, still rocking and shifting around with restless energy. 

Blaise sat more calmly, legs hung off the side of his own bed further to the left. He tensed and leaned forward with excitement as she entered, “Mother!” 

Vermin leapt onto the bed and curled up beside the breton boy as Driem scooped him into a hug. He grimaced and pulled back.

“I would have waited for you with Zu-zi but Mama-Moira says I'm grounded.” 

“Yes, I heard about your little escapade. Shahvee told me,” she made a show of looking around conspiratorially and dropped her voice lower, “Sounds terribly impressive, to me.” She tossed him a wink, “How’d you even get up there?” 

He shrugged. “I climbed.” 

Driem couldn’t help grinning.

Yinzu-zi gave a low whine of impatience. “Mama can I have my dagger? Please!”

She raised her eyebrows at the suddenly sheepish looking argonian. She smiled and shook her head, “Of course.”

Digging around in her bag, she extracted the small treasure and pulled the leather wrapping back, revealing the intricately carved weapon as she held it out for her younger son to take. 

“Oh,” he gasped. He plucked it from her hands, gingerly turning it over and running a claw along the markings as he inspected it. “It  **_is_ ** pretty!” 

“Manners Zu-zi!” Blaise hissed.

The argoinan looked up, head cocked and then jumped as he realized what his brother meant, “Thank you Mama!”

“You're welcome.” She drew a hand through his feathers, “Why don't you put that away for now and get ready for bed, hm? You can try it out tomorrow, I promise.” 

Yinzu-zi scowled. 

Turning to Blaise, Driem reached into her bag once more, “And  _ this _ is from Ralis.”

Blaise eagerly accepted the gift, like Yinzu-zi, running his finger over the carving in it. Unlike the argonain’s dagger though, the chintin tag was crudely carved and the entire collar bore many signs of being homemade, crafted by someone who wasn't foremost a craftsman. But, knowing Blaise, that would make it all the more special. 

Yinzu-zi hopped off his bed and came over to watch Blaise attach the collar around the skeever’s neck. 

The effect was striking. Something more finely made might have caused Vermin to look especially bad in comparison, but the collar served to somehow make him look both more regal and well kept, and yet at the same time, all the more creepy too; the iridescence of the netch leather appearing almost sickly. It was incredibly fitting.

“Tell him I said thank you.” Blaise ran his finger along the oily-looking purple sheen on the band, “It’s perfect. I wish we could show him.”

“Why don’t you write him a letter?”  

The breton boy scrunched his face. Driem laughed. It was good to see her boys again, but it was still their bedtime. The argonian boy required another reminder to put his new dagger away, and Yinzu-zi looked, for a moment, as if he might protest, but he changed his mind and scampered off to stash it away. After that it didn’t take long to get the boys settled in bed. She blew out the torches, clicked the door shut to murmured good nights, and wearily climbed the stairs to her own room. 

Only one wall sconce was lit, near the head of the bed, where Moira was reading. 

“How long did you ground him for?” 

Moira closed her book and set it on the end table as she raised an eyebrow in Driem’s direction, “I didn’t actually say.” 

“I don’t think climbing is the worst thing we could foster you know. We let Zu-zi play with knives.”

“I know I know, but what if he falls, breaks a leg?”

“Then he heals and he learns to be more careful.”

Moira’s brow furrowed, “I would rather he not fall in the first place.”

Driem climbed onto the bed, “Me too, but he’s a smart boy and he’s careful. We have to let them make their own mistakes. He wasn’t really breaking any rules, or hurting anyone’s property.” 

“Remind me why I wanted you to come home again?” the hagraven cast Driem a sidelong glare. 

“Sorry. I know it’s only because you care. I love you for that, I really do.”

Moira’s scowl softened. “So, you were going to tell me about why you’re back.”

“Oh, that’s right! As it turns out, I need to find the dragonborn.”

* * *

 

The boys were sad to see her leave so soon, and in truth she’d considered staying a while longer before setting out herself, but Moira was right: the longer she waited, the more stale the trail would grow. 

She set out before dawn. Cheshire seemed happy to see her and while the stable hand had assured her that the horse had been taken out for regular walks, she clearly hadn’t had a good run since Driem had been home last. They rode hard almost a third of the way to Ivarstead before Cheshire slowed to a more even trot.

She stopped along the river to get a drink and give the horse a bit of a rest before continuing on. Even after a hard run, Cheshire still seemed happy to break into a trot. Driem wondered again if the stable hand had actually been making sure to get her out and about.

She’d have to teach Blaise to ride soon, then he could give Cheshire a bit more exercise. Of course, he’d probably prefer his own horse. It would be nice to go on rides together. Driem absently nodded to herself. She’d teach him to ride first, and assuming he was interested and doing a good job, then in a couple years she’d get him a horse of his own.  _ Zu-zi might be old enough to start learning to ride by then too. _

Maybe then he could borrow Cheshire and the boys could go on rides together. Moira wouldn’t like it, but it would be good for them. Maybe she could convince  _ Moira  _ to start riding, get her out of the house a little more. Driem smiled and shook her head. As if there was a plane of Oblivion in which that might happen. She imitated a nicker as she patted Cheshire’s neck and recieved a happy whinny in response. 

The ride was over sooner than she’d have liked. It only took a few hours to reach Ivarstead. She left Cheshire at the base of the mountain rather than at the stables and had to assure the guard that she’d be fine and wouldn’t wander too far. 

She grimaced as she started up the mountain. She could be at the top in a matter of hours if she changed, but she’d have to wait until after dark. Back in Ravenrock nobody would have batted an eye, but here she had to be careful. 

The hours melted away and soon enough the sun was falling. She wasn’t very far up the mountain and wondered if she’d have been better off waiting to even get a start on her journey. She moved to find a decent place to strip out of her armor but she’d hardly stepped off the trail and hadn’t even removed more than her helmet when she heard a booming shout.  _ Was that ‘Wuld’?  _

Moments later an avalanche was cascading down the mountain, only a little off to her left. Driem watched the tumbling snow with interest. Her original plan had been to get to the sanctuary and sniff around for the lingering scents of a visitor. Now, maybe she wouldn’t have to after all.

She squinted at the falling mass, and sure enough, there was something that looked like a person amidst the chaotic swirls of white. In just a couple of moments, the entire ordeal was over. Most of the snow settled just a little higher up the mountain than where she was standing. 

Driem began to jog.


End file.
